I guess the baseball gods read my last post and decided to punish me for having no cable. I watched the first three innings or so of the game at my parents' place and went back to my TV-less house. I fell asleep with a 5-0 Sox lead dancing in my head. It was so early in the game I didn't even notice that Lester had a no hitter working. It's the second time in 12 months I missed a no hitter since I fell asleep before the end of the Buchholz no-no. I, of course, got to see the end of Curt Schilling's game when he allowed his first hit with two out in the ninth inning.
In the sports world where everything is drenched in hyperbole, Jon Lester's no hitter is a story so sappy it would've been rejected by most Hollywood studios. In the two years since receiving treatment for cancer, Lester has pitched a World Series clincher and a no hitter. When I watch him I think of my late cousin, Louie, who battled Hodgkin's Disease and was an avid baseball fan and coach. But even if you don't have a personal connection to Lester's situation, you would have to be made of stone not to feel ecstatic for the guy.